


Lemon Bars and Roses

by HanaHana



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love at First Sight, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-06-24 11:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15629781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanaHana/pseuds/HanaHana
Summary: Jesse McCree is living the dream, he owns his own bakery, his sweets are delicious, the new kid that takes care of the coffee is great at what he does. But the mysterious icy man that visits his bakery once a week at the exact same time every week has stolen his heart with his stoic appearance and sharp features.A love confession through a confection, two brothers repairing something that had burned to ash and the mysteries of life all come together as one.





	1. Lavender

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've written a fic in over a year, and I have been stewing over this fic for about nine months. Terrified to release it, but eager to break out of my shell and try this writing thing again.

Life was full of sweet mysteries, and for Jesse McCree, his sweet mystery came in the form of a man. A man that came every Thursday at one in the afternoon, bought exactly six chocolate chip cookies and six fudge brownies, paid with a sleek black credit card and left in utter silence. The man had never spoken to Jesse before, he hadn't even spared the simple baker a second glance, opting for paying for his items and leaving as fast as he could, but Jesse knew from the moment the mysterious man walked through the door to his tiny bakery, it was love at first sight.

Fortunately, Jesse McCree was a man of great stubbornness. Something one father had praised him for, while the other only shook his head at. But because of Jesse's stubbornness, he never backed down from the mysterious man with the precise schedule, although in the back of his brain Jesse knew the man was definitely out of his league, his stubbornness prevented him from saying such things out loud. As far as he was concerned, this man was a challenge, much more challenging than any other romantic interest, but simply a challenge. And Jesse McCree didn't much like losing said challenges.

It took four weeks for Jesse to realize that the mysterious man only came in on Thursdays, there was no chance of the man appearing during any other day of the week, or bere One O'clock. This made Thursday Jesse's golden day, Wednesday night he went to bed early, Thursday morning he woke up early, showered more thoroughly than any other day of the week, combed his hair, trimmed his beard and put on his best clothing. Although his best clothing happened to be a flannel shirt that wasn't stained or ripped, tucked into comfortable black jeans that were snug around his backside, but perfect for moving around in. Jesse thought he cleaned up well, he was an attractive man, with a nice smile, good facial structure and the right amount of pudge around his middle.

But sometimes, despite his stubbornness, the voice in the back of the head reminded him that cleaning up well didn't come close to comparing to the mysterious man. Wearing suits that were worth more than his bakery and apartment combined, his hair always tied back neatly and his facial hair trimmed perfect and symmetrical. He wore the coldest, most sour look on his face Jesse had ever seen, but the light that danced in the browns of his irises spoke thousands of words. Jesse could read stories in those eyes, and when he made eye contact with the stranger for those mere seconds, it was like reading novels upon novels of everything from love to tragedy, or both. The icy exterior, scowl painted on his gorgeously chiseled face, the air of power, all of it meant nothing in those moments. His love amplified a million times, a love for a man he didn't know. One he was half convinced he would never truly know.

But he was only half convinced, and half convinced was better than fully convinced. Because this Thursday Jesse McCree had a plan. It may not work, it probably wouldn't. But he was damn well going to try and make it work. The stranger, as gorgeous as he was, also had an impeccable schedule, Jesse and his shop assistants quickly learned that the man was not one for small talk, and the few times he had been caught in such things, he spent the entirety of the conversation looking at the expensive silver watch on his wrist, and smiling coldly at whoever was talking. This made flirting near impossible, the last thing Jesse wanted was for his flirting to hinder the man of his dreams, he didn't want to be seen as a nuisance. 

It was something simple, so small and insignificant that if the mysterious man didn't catch on, Jesse could easily save himself. All of the bakeries sweets were delicious, and all of them came from the recipe book left by his almost step-mother Ana before she had left on her travels of the world. Everything tasted delightful, not once had Jesse ever heard a single complaint, but their most popular item was as simple as it could get. A lemon bar. When Jesse makes the lemon bars, he's reminded of his sweet mystery, a sour exterior, displeasing to think about in a sense, but a wonderfully sweet interior that was almost surprising. He was sure that those eyes showed the emotion his face did not, he was sure the dance of light within those irises meant more, and he was determined to prove it because Jesse McCree was a very, very, stubborn man.

This specific bar was made special for his stranger. The top a wonderful creamy mixture of white chocolate and lemon, swirled together in intricate, swirling patterns and hiding the yellow jellied lemon beneath it. The shortbread was baked rich and crumbly, practically melting in his mouth. It was perfect, his best batch yet and made especially for a gorgeous stranger. To top it off, because while being stubborn, a little foolish and a heck of a charming guy, Jesse McCree was also a little extra, and being extra never hurt him when it came to love. WIth lilac buttercream, whipped to perfection, Jesse McCree spooned the icing into his piping bag with his trusty Russian tip and piped the most intricate and beautiful rose he had ever seen on the corner of the bar. He gave it light green leaves, also buttercream and equally perfect, and dusted the tiniest amount of lilac luster dust, giving the petals of his rose the tiniest shimmer in the proper lighting.

It was perfect, but subtle enough that the stranger may not understand Jesse's declaration. If anything he would think it was a nice touch to a simple dessert, and that was honestly enough for the baker. He didn't usually pack orders early, especially when said order was not ordered in advance. He was being presumptuous, assuming the stranger would come in this Thursday as well, assuming that his love confession wouldn't fall upon death ears. But he was stubborn, foolish, charming, extra and also presumptuous. Because Jesse McCree, the fool of a man, was completely head over heels in love with a man he had never met before. Charmed by the cold exterior and perfect facial grooming, smitten with the expensive suit and silver watch, the man was absolutely gorgeous. Jesse knew he would regret confessing his love to the man, but he also knew he would regret not doing so. So with some reluctance, a little mental convincing and shaking fingers, Jesse boxed the mysterious man's order in the prettiest to-go box he could find and placed the lemon bar perfectly on top of wax paper separating cookies and brownies. Silently hoping the man would understand what he meant.

The stranger had never been late before, not a single time in the last few weeks. So when he was late today it nearly broke Jesse's heart, he felt stupid for putting so much effort into his stupid lemon bar with its stupid lilac rose. He felt stupid for thinking that the gorgeous stranger would understand the meaning of his declaration, and when the stranger neared being ten minutes late. Jesse left the front counter to his part-time help and went into the back to cut fondant and maybe cry. At one thirty, Jesse heard the ring on the door outside, and the soft hello that sounded from the front counter alerted him of who was there to pick up their goods. He rushed out of the room in the same manner a child would run downstairs Christmas morning, he was too excited to see his mystery man.

Every time Jesse had run into his mystery man, he was greeted with utter perfection. Pressed suits, groomed facial hair and perfectly tied back hair. Today was different, there was no perfection in front of him, but instead, he was greeted with the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entirety of life. A pressed suit was replaced with a maroon button down, elegant and expensive, perfectly tucked into black slacks that hugged the man's legs perfectly. Gone was his hair tied into a perfect ponytail, and adorned with a beautiful ribbon, today it was left to hang over the man's shoulders and past his collarbones. Gorgeous, the color of onyx and shining perfectly under the fluorescents of the bakery. What Jesse would give to lean across the counter and stroke the soft strands.

As the man approached the counter, Jesse grabbed the box from the shelf under the cash register and placed it on the counter, flashing a bright smile at his beautiful stranger. "You're late today darling," he says to the man as he rings in the total for the sweets.

The stranger's eyes widen for a moment and he's quickly averting his gaze, staring at the floor "Yes, I apologize for that," his words are so weak and soft, Jesse's heart nearly melts on the spot. He wants to reach over the counter and take the mans face in his hands, to kiss him softly, he wants to do something to make the weakness fade from his voice.

Before he can say anything else, the man is swiping his fancy black credit card and holding the box under his arm. Jesse wants to wish him a good day, to tell him about the treat made special for him in that box, and he almost does. For once he almost has the courage to speak to the man properly, the stranger had already given him a reply today, and that was better than the four weeks of icy silence. Jesse feels like he could get away with talking to the man today, he feels like he could get more words to fall from his soft lips. However, life was never fair to Jesse McCree, and the moment he built the courage to speak to the man again, a beautiful blonde woman sneaks up beside the man and grabs him by the arm, flashing the smile of an angel.

"Hanzo!" she sounds so happy, familiar with the man, "I'm so glad I ran into you here," the woman continues, like she sees the man every day and knows him, more than an acquaintance. "Are those for Genji?" she points at the box, one arm still wrapped around the man's free arm, "he'll be so happy, he talks about the desserts all week long."

As the woman pulls the stranger out of the bakery, Jesse catches a glimpse of the man turning to stare at Jesse over his shoulder as the front door closes. The strangers stare strikes confidence in Jesse, and he flashes a smile and a wink at the stranger. He was anxious, anxious towards whether or not the stranger would understand the meaning behind his special dessert. Would he throw it out, and act like it was a simple mistake? He wasn't sure, he just hoped he didn't scare away his attractive customer. As Jesse returns to work, boxing orders of sweets and taking the baking out of the oven, it hits him like a bag of bricks. The mysterious blonde beauty had used the stranger's name, 

"Hanzo," Jesse says under his breath, liking the way it sounds on his own tongue. His cheeks are warm, and his stomach does a backflip, he ends up saying the name, again and again, hoping today wouldn't be the last time he saw Hanzo.


	2. Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: There are mentions of suicide in this chapter, one of the reasons I struggled with posting this for so long was because suicide made a gigantic impact in my life, and writing about it brought on feelings of guilt I didn't know I was feeling. In one way this is helping me recover and heal, and in another this story is helping me get back into writing.   
> Things will get better from here on out.

He liked Angela, she was a good nurse and a good friend. But she hated confrontation and conflict, and because Genji knew this he took full advantage of the woman's soft nature. He knew that lashing out would cause her to back down, he knew that if he acted like he didn't care, or that he wouldn't listen to her orders, she would leave him alone. It had worked for the last two months, putting up a fuss over the group, refusing to go, even if his brother wanted him to, Genji was adamant about staying in bed and not participating in the crybaby circle. He was almost certain that if Angela stood up for herself if she told Genji he was going and that was the end of that, he would go. He probably would have done anything for Angela, she saved his life.

Not that he wanted to live at first, when he first arrived in the facility he didn't want to continue living. If anything he was ashamed of himself for not succeeding in ending it, he was ashamed that once again he had let down his family. Even if that wasn't the case, Genji let the guilt fester for as long as he possibly could. Which only ended up being until his stitches were removed and the heavy bandages shielding his wrists from the world were removed. It left a nasty scar, bumpy and purple and not nice to look at. But he had survived, and when the weight of the fabric wrapped around his wrist was lifted, his eyes were also opened. Angela, twenty-eight years old, blonde hair, eyes as blue as a tropical ocean, used her own time to make sure Genji was still alive. Angela, pretty as an angel, sweet as candy, made sure he was okay before she checked if she was okay.

It was endearing, he thought. This gorgeous woman, too gorgeous for words and too good for anybody but the best, had put time into him. Even if it was her job, and even if she got paid for doing so. Seeing her beautiful white teeth, and twinkling eyes first thing in the morning was endearing. Genji knew that as long as Angela was his nurse, and as long as he didn't have to go to group, he would make it through this. Maybe somewhere deep down he knew that going to the group would speed up the healing process, and maybe he also knew that treating Angela the way he did, exploiting her weakness was wrong. But he was stubborn, Hanzo had always told him that, from adolescence to adulthood, and he was certain that he was never ever going to group.

The first few months were painful. No visitors, no outside anything, just Genji, his incredibly soft blanket supplied by the facility and his beautiful nurse. Although he didn't go to group, he was still required to meet with his personal therapist. And that was painful, more painful than the actual attempt itself. It was clear that his shitty therapist was only in it for the paycheck, he didn't open up to her as much as he should have. But when he did, he was all but brushed off and it only added to his anger towards the situation. The situation he was sure was somehow his fault, but she definitely didn't need to remind him that it was his fault. Her lack of response, icy undertones, and judgmental eyes reminded him of Hanzo, and it made Genji want to scream. Or break things. Preferably break her.

After his bandages were removed and he was deemed mentally stable enough to deal with the outside world, visitors were allowed. Only on Thursdays at two in the afternoon, and they could only stay for an hour and a half, and they couldn't bring any tobacco or alcohol. But visitors were permitted, if he felt like seeing them, and Genji definitely did not feel like seeing any. He was sure his so-called friends weren't even aware of where he was, or what he was doing. They probably thought he was off on a three-month bender and would show up a new man, a better man. They always assumed he was having fun. His piece of shit brother also wasn't welcomed. Even if Hanzo would never show up, ever. He still wasn't allowed if he did decide to show up, he was the one that drove Genji to this point and he never gave a damn about him before. 

At least that's what he had told himself, and then the first week when Hanzo didn't show up he was disappointed, maybe even heartbroken to a point. His only brother, his only family in the world left and he couldn't make time from his busy schedule to see his only younger brother who almost died. Genji was sure at this point everything made him angry, the entire situation made him angry, but Hanzo not showing up made him angrier than usual. So angry, in fact, that when his careless therapist asked him a question, he answered it by smashing her vase of flowers across her desk. Because fuck her and fuck Hanzo. The second week was better, much better actually. Hanzo showed up a quarter to two, allowed to enter the room early on Angela's clearance. He carried a box under his arm and wore a nervous smile, but he was Hanzo and he had come to visit and that's all that Genji wanted.

If Angela believed that allowing Genji visitors would interest him in the group, she was horribly mistaken. Because even after the third week of Hanzo visiting, that same box tucked under his arm, a box Genji began looking forward to. Because the said box was always filled with his absolute favorite things, brownies and cookies, baked to perfection and sating the sweet tooth Genji was all but forced to abandon when admitted into the facility. Although Hanzo's visits were welcomed, and appreciated, both brothers making small talk and beginning to ease back into a sibling-like relationship, or whatever they would call it after the incident. It wasn't enough to interest Genji in the group, in fact, he still didn't give a single fuck about the group and he planned on never going.

Until halfway through week three when Angela introduced him to a new nurse. His name was Zen, and he was the cutest thing Genji had ever seen. Angela was beautiful, smart, lovely and an absolute dream. Genji thought of her quite often, thought of kissing her gorgeous pale fingers and brushing her shoulder-length blonder hair behind her ear in some terrible attempt at cheesy romance. But Zen, he was different. Softer, more sensitive to Genji and his situation. Maybe it was in his head, Angela was very empathetic to him as well, but the way she displayed it came through as maternal, or like an older sister. 

Genji had to beg Angela to allow Zen to look after him too. He was almost ready to promise he would go to group, just once if Zen could stay and talk too. But Zen had heard the two bickering about it as he passed the room, when he entered the room with tranquility Genji longed for, smiled his soft, but bright smile and told Genji that if he desired his presence, he would come daily. Genji fell in love, he was blown on his ass and was absolutely dazed by the absolute treasure known as his male nurse. He nodded like a child promising to be good if they could get what they wanted, too eager to say yes and too excited. He looked like an absolute idiot, and that was just what the presence of Zen did to him.

Never would Angela or any of Genji's therapists think that Genji would truly open up about the situation. But wrapped in his too-soft blanket provided by the facility, with a cup of lavender tea held tightly between his hands, Genji told Zen everything. From the moment his relationship with Hanzo shattered, the day their father died, how Hanzo had taken control over the family business and tactfully cut Genji from his life, to the night that he lay half emerged in water, cigarette in one hand, the other letting blood soak the bath as his eyelids stuck lazily on the ceiling. Praying this wasn't it. He told everything to Zen, cried at memories, laughed at them too, he was bitter, sad, wishing the past didn't exist and that sometimes he didn't exist. But he spoke, and Zen listened, only stopping to refill his tea when asked, and when Genji was done speaking, he vomited and then smiled, realizing a five-year weight had been lifted from him and he didn't even have to move out of bed.

Now he was in the current week, Thursday at one in the afternoon and fighting with Angela that yes, it was absolutely necessary that he brings his too-soft blanket to the group. Angela puts up great fights, he knew this first hand, she was an amazing fighter with a strong personality and solid resolve. But fifteen minutes of Genji whining, holding the blanket in a death grip and promising to end her was enough to break that resolve, and Genji was being escorted by two security guards, the blanket was drawn tight around his shoulders and dangling like a cape, to the group. He didn't know how Zen convinced him to go to group, maybe it was because he couldn't say no the man, or maybe it was because he knew in his heart that Zen only wanted the best for him. But he was going, and he had been promised lavender tea and an extended curfew because of it. Of course, it was Thursday, and Hanzo was coming today and he would bring his sweets and make small talk with Genji and Angela and it was going to be a good day.

Group was the most boring thing Genji had ever had to sit through, and he was the son of a multi-billion dollar business owner, so he has had to sit in on a lot of boring things. He wasn't required to talk on his first visit, which he found silly because he was ready to stomp into the room, spew his story and get it over with. Instead, he listened to people who were healing slowly, he understood how slowly people tended to heal, so he didn't judge a single person for the baby steps they were taking. Hell, they were doing better than him if they were going to group regularly. Most of the people in the room were in similar situations to his, although some of the rising events leading to their downfalls were a lot different, in a general sense these were his people. So although it was boring, and his older brother bringing sweets was the only thing on his mind, he leaned against his palm, and listened intently to every story, making sure he was showing the same respect these people would show him.

Hanzo was late, only by fifteen minutes, but Genji was convinced it was the first time in his elder brothers life that he had ever been late. Genji was escorted back to his room by the same security guards, not that he was a threat, but threatening to end Angela didn't sit well with anyone. His room was empty, bed made and Zen's teapot sitting quietly beside it, there was no Angela or Zen. Usually, Angela would be curled up on the chair in the corner, reading some kind of book. She didn't get a lot of breaks, having to look after Genji almost all the time. But today because he had gone to the group she was given a two-hour break to do as she pleased, and apparently, that was abandoning Genji. 

His worries were quickly put to rest when the door opened, allowing Angela and Hanzo to enter the room. They were laughing, softly, for a split second Genji was envious of their ability to see the outside world through more than a curtained window. But the box tucked carefully under Hanzo's arm washed away his envy, his older brother always brought the best sweets, and that's what Genji looked forward to the most. The chair from the corner was pushed over to the bed, giving Hanzo somewhere to sit, and Angela had carefully taken the teapot from the bedside table, bringing it over to the hot water tap in her medical station.

"Have you ever tried the tea at that bakery, Hanzo?" She asks from the other side of the room, her voice was always so soft and lovely. Genji found his envy being brought back at the way she spoke to his brother. 

Hanzo only shakes his head, muttering a soft no as he approaches Genji. He places the box beside his brother, like every other week, giving Genji first pick of whatever he wanted. The first thing he notices is that the box is different, although usually kept in a plain white box with a contact number for the bakery on the back, this box was a beautiful gold that sparkled in the light. It was strange, but Hanzo had obviously not noticed or didn't care, so neither did Genji. He eagerly opens the box, excited to finally eat his treats he had been waiting all week for. The first thing he notices is that on top of his treats there's something absolutely beautiful, but far too fruity for his liking. Soft yellows mixed with milky white, and sporting a beautifully piped rose on top, Genji quirks his brow and turns to Hanzo, 

"I don't like lemon squares, Hanzo,"


	3. Yellow

Seeing Angela in the bakery was a surprise. Hanzo was almost convinced that Genji's nurse never actually left the facility she worked in. He was convinced she couldn't leave Genji alone, knowing his younger brother, the youngest Shimada would either break something, himself or someone else. He was always clumsy, always required constant supervision, even as young children. So seeing Angela in a public place was a shock, almost as much of a shock as having the woman cling to his arm and give him the same smile she constantly gave Genji.

The man at the counter looked like he wanted to talk some more, and Hanzo was considering giving the man what he wanted. He had tried to speak to Hanzo on multiple occasions, and it wasn't that Hanzo didn't want to speak to the man. He was horrible with people outside of business dealings. He was the youngest CEO of the Shimada Corporation in history, and his families business stretched back through generations and generations of strong men with honed charisma skills and people skills. But when it came to socializing, Hanzo was horrible. Awkward and unsure if he was overstepping boundaries, or being offensive, or too stiff with his humor. He wasn't Genji, he would never have the ease with people, complete strangers, that Genji had. His younger brother could easily talk to somebody and become their best friend only minutes later. His younger brother was a pro at that sort of thing, meanwhile, Hanzo was good at negotiating numbers and raising his businesses stocks.

It also didn't help that the man behind the counter was far too handsome for his own good. Hanzo never had a thing for rugged men, men in flannels and jeans. But this stranger, Jesse his name tag read. This man was gorgeous, in flannel and jeans with dark skin, adorned with coarse hair and scars. He was directly out of a Western movie, minus the hat. Hanzo briefly wonders if the baker would look good in a cowboy hat, and quickly finds himself blushing at the thought. Before he has a chance to speak, Angela is pulling him out of the shop by his arm, babbling happily about Genji and the progress he has made in the last week. Hanzo makes one last attempt to look the man's way, a silent apology; and he's met with a mutual stare, and before he can look away from the man behind the counter winks at him. He swears to god his entire face must be read at this point.

He was late today, he wanted to apologize for that better. Seeing that the man had already boxed his sweets away made him think that the shop now expected him, it was rude to not show up at his usual time. He had made the mistake of staying up too late reading books he had thought were long lost, old romance novels belonging to his mother. When he had a chance to look at the clock it was nearly four in the morning and he was due at work for eight. Waking up at six was his regular, and he had definitely set his alarm for six as well. But he slept through it, and a quarter after seven Hanzo was scrambling to get dressed and tie his hair up. He abandoned his suit for an equally regal button down and figured he didn't have enough time to tie his hair back, and instead combed it briefly before heading out the door and into the car waiting for him. 

Meetings dragged on longer than usual, his business partners; the elders, nagging him for things he couldn't control. A fall in stocks, an investor pulling out because of the state of the economy. Hanzo brushed off any comments directed at him, reminding the elders of who signed their paychecks. It was tedious, annoying and emotionally exhausting. Hanzo found his eyes on the clock constantly, looking forward to his weekly visit with his brother. He was worried Genji would be upset if he were late, worried that he wouldn't make it in time for visiting hours with the way the elders were dragging on the meeting. If Hanzo didn't know better, he would assume they were doing it on purpose. Somehow learning of their weekly visits, and as usual, doing their best to destroy the brother's relationship. But he also understood their concerns, money meant everything to their corporation, they had employees to pay, bills to pay, new businesses opening in new countries. It was stressful, everything was stressful, Hanzo just wanted to see Genji.

At least now, as Angela pulled him into her car and drove them to the facility he knew he was one step closer to seeing Genji. "You know he went to group today," she says softly, eyes on the road ahead of her. "He fought me for so long about it, not going to group I mean. But a new nurse was hired, I don't know what has gotten into Genji but he follows the man around like a puppy."

Hanzo disguises his laugh with a scoff. Genji always had crushes on everyone he met, especially cute boys. Hanzo knew too well of how crazy for romance Genji was, and it was no surprise that he would do something he didn't really want to do to impress a new guy. 

"It's good that he has decided to go," Hanzo offers, smiling softly, "He's really improving, no?"

Angela ends up sighing and nodding, "That's true, I just want him to go to group for himself. Not for the new nurse."

The rest of the drive was relatively quiet, Angela hummed some songs to herself as they drove through the midday traffic. Hanzo liked Angela, he thought she was a nice lady with a passion for her work. Genji constantly raved about her, about everything about her. From the way she spoke to the way, she took his vitals every morning. Hanzo was glad that Genji liked his nurse, relieved that she seemed to like him as well. One of Hanzo's biggest fears, when he brought Genji to the facility, was that he would be another number, another patient that meant nothing more than the cheque that was signed at the beginning of the program. But Genji was getting better, he was looking happier and healthier with every week, he got along with everyone and seemed to be enjoying his time in the facility. It was a weight off Hanzo's shoulders.

Genji was more than happy to take the desserts away from Hanzo, happy to get what he had been waiting for all week. Hanzo chuckled as the younger Shimada took the box from him, taking a moment to crush down the guilt that filled his entire being knowing that currently, the only connection to the outside world was that box of sweets Genji was bouncing in place for. He needs this, Angela's voice rings in his head. The woman had been nothing but kind and accepting of Genji, even if there was a hefty sum of money given to the facility to keep the mental state of the Shimada under lock and key, she was more than happy to assist Genji on his road to good health.

"I don't like lemon squares, Hanzo." Genji's voice snaps his attention back to reality and Hanzo gives Genji a quizzical look for a moment before looking in the box on Genji's lap. Sure enough, the prettiest lemon square Hanzo had ever seen was sitting on top of the other pastries. It must be for someone's wedding, Hanzo thought, the baker had messed up his order and accidentally put in a much more elegant sweet by accident. He contemplated bringing the lemon square back to the baker and apologizing for the mix-up. But Angela was looking over his shoulder and into the box as well,

"I knew it," she said softly to herself, Hanzo turned to see a soft smile on her face,

"Knew what?"

She points at the frosted rose on top, dusted with luster and shining prettily in the light. "Lavender," she says softly, "the color of love at first sight."

Genji squawks, and Hanzo feels his face burning up. He claims it was a mistake, something the baker had done accidentally. Angela laughs and explains how the baker was staring at Hanzo, his eyes dreamy and cheeks pink, Hanzo wanted to scream or turn into liquid thin enough to seep through the cracks in the floor and escape the situation. The baker was attractive, probably the most attractive man Hanzo had seen in a long while, he was nothing but smiles to Hanzo but there was no way that was more than being friendly. He just seemed like a friendly guy, there was no possible way that lemon square was for him, no way in hell.

The rest of the visit consisted of Genji mocking him. The younger boy made kissy faces at Hanzo and batted his eyelashes, trying to spark a reaction from the older brother. Hanzo did his best to ignore it, the only hint that he had even acknowledged Genji's teasings was the dusting of blush on his cheeks and his inability to meet Genji's gaze. If anything, the baker's bold mistake had brought out a long missed side of Genji that Hanzo had not seen in years. Despite the embarrassment of his younger brother discovering anything about his love life, it filled his heart with warmth to see his brother being the goof he loved so much.

When Hanzo arrived back at his office, he only technically had two hours of work left. But ever since the incident, Hanzo had not enjoyed going home much at all, and found that he much rather preferred spending his lonely hours in his office. Even if he wasn't exactly surrounded by work, or too busy, it saved him from the bitter reminders that his apartment held. Small parts of Genji that he found lying around, parts that reminded him of what had happened. Reminded him of Genji's despair. It was his fault. Even if he and Genji were working on it, even if they were going to fix what they had both equally broke, it still hurt him. It still tore his insides apart thinking of Genji's decision, thinking of the younger Shimada's downfall. It was still Hanzo's fault, no matter how he worded it, no matter how many pamphlets for help Angela gave him, it was still his fault.

He's halfway through a quarterly business report when he finds himself growing bored of the typing and copying. He's three-quarters of the way through when he pulls up his search engine and brings up a map of the downtown area. He follows the road with his mouse until he reaches the bakery tucked away, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Hidden like it was some sort of secret, his secret. He thinks of the lemon bar, how it was too gorgeous to eat, and the implied meaning of the piped rose on top. Hanzo groans and digs the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and pulls his hands down his face dramatically. The romance was Genji's thing, not his. He had had relationships, everyone has at one point in their life. But Hanzo's relationships were usually set up for him, a way for the company to boost their numbers, gain the favor of other companies in the area. Hanzo was always a pawn, and his partners were nothing more than pieces in his companies elaborate board game of power.

Not to mention him and the baker came with drastically different lifestyles. He was the heir to a fortune, the baker made art out of pastry. Nothing could ever work out between them but Hanzo quite enjoyed toying with the idea in his head. He pictures the bakers large, calloused hands holding him by his hips, pressing their bodies together. He thinks of them sharing warmth, sweet kisses that taste like fresh baked cookies and coffee. It causes his cheeks to flush and his pulse to quicken. Pining over a stranger like a middle school girl was not usual for him, in fact, it was the complete opposite of usual. But there’s almost a satisfaction in it like the mere thoughts alone were enough to rebel against his family, his company. It feels good, but the guilt soon follows his pleasure and Hanzo finds himself finishing his reports with a drone like tempo, his computer sits alone in the middle of the room, soft blue glow illuminating nothing the golden box with the untouched lemon square tucked under his arm and office lights are turned off and Hanzo's on his way out the door before he knows it. 

The town car is waiting for him at the entrance to the building Hanzo waves the driver off, wanting to walk home tonight. It’s a thirty minute walk to the train that takes him home, nothing too hard or exhausting for Hanzo. The area he lived in was generally safe, whatever part of the night world that existed there kept to themselves. They knew not to bother anyone that wasn’t their own kind, they weren’t looking for trouble with their misfortune. It’s ten minutes into the walk, Hanzo had just passed Genji’s facility, he made a meek wave towards Genji’s window, the lights were still on but the curtains were drawn. The youngest Shimada was probably causing some form of grief for his nurses, Hanzo thought. Or maybe he was drinking tea with his cute male nurse, either way, Hanzo’s wave is directed at nothing. Another ten minutes into the walk is when the rain starts to pour, first a drizzle that wasn’t too bothersome, just enough to get the shoulders of his flannel damp. But then it was like each and every storm cloud in the state sought after Hanzo and opened on top of him, the hardest rain he had ever been in, mixed with a cold wind and the dark of the night it became quite bothersome. 

He holds his arms across his chest, protecting the golden box fearing if the beautifully crafted dessert gets wet it will be ruined while chasing some kind of nonexistent warmth from the box, his hair whips him in the face, damp and freezing. He sputters and groans, a peaceful walk home to think over everything that had happened during the day was quickly becoming the most annoying thing he had ever done. He sees an entryway tucked between two buildings, the lights are still on and the place is hidden but inviting. Hanzo jogs towards the building, willing to do anything to avoid the cold rain. The door jingles as he opens it, and he’s immediately greeted with warmth, it smells like vanilla and fresh bread and causes Hanzo to release a sigh from deep in his chest. 

“Sorry darling, we’re just closing.” A voice behind the counter startles Hanzo out of his content state, he stares in surprise at the man behind the counter, realizing how he had been caught in a state that he never deemed possible in front of somebody so handsome. The man behind the counter, Jesse; does a double take and quickly realizes who is standing in the entryway. “Hanzo?” He questions before untying his apron and moving from behind the counter, “oh shit you’re soaked, let me grab you a towel.”


	4. Peach

When Genji hears the rain begin to pour, he’s reminded of home. He thinks of all of the times his dad forced both him and Hanzo to train in the rain, how the cold drops of water burned on their exhausted skin. He thinks of how afterward he would kick rocks angrily and swear at his father, calling him a curse and the worst. Hanzo would follow behind Genji, trying his hardest not to shiver. He always wanted to be strong, especially in front of Genji, he realizes. Hanzo has always been susceptible to cold, his skin was always freezing, he was the first to grab extra blankets or wear two sweaters. Those days he must have been freezing, but he never complained. Often times he lectured Genji, telling him how he would miss their father once he was gone and how he’s only trying to make them strong. To give them the best. Back then it annoyed Genji, caused him more anger, more rebellion. But now as he sits cross-legged on his bed, with his too-soft blanket wrapped around his shoulders and the sounds of the rain pounding against his window, he realizes how right Hanzo was.   
When their dad died everything had crumbled, Hanzo was forced to grow up. Not once did he ever complain, instead he did everything he could to appear strong. He had always been the same, the same stoic expression on his face, masking his emotions. The same intimidating stance, always standing like he was late or about to purchase the deed to your life, he was always like that. But he became more like that when their father died, he was forced to age twenty years and assume the role of someone who knew what they were doing. Even though he knew that in social situations Hanzo floundered, sought after his younger brother to do the talking, to make the deals, negotiate. Hanzo was great with numbers, but the years of being cooped up in their big house, following their father around like a puppy, he lost any ability to socialize beyond signing a paycheque or laying someone off.   
He has a cup of tea between his hands, warming his palms to a temperature as relaxing as a Mother’s embrace. He wishes he had his cell phone, he wishes he could text Hanzo and apologize for the things he’s said, what he didn’t say. He wishes he could apologize for everything he ever did to his brother. Angela is asleep in the chair tucked in the corner of the room, sleeping so softly her chest rises and falls like the steam from his tea, so unnoticeable but beautiful, silent. After Hanzo had left in the afternoon, Angela raved about the older Shimada finding a love interest. She told Genji of how attractive the baker was, and how much work obviously went into the pastry that Hanzo ended up bringing home with him in that same golden box.   
Genji knew better though, he knew the baker was wasting his time. Hanzo never sought after love, he had no interest in anything that would hinder his ability to run the company. He was like a machine programmed to work and never experience fun or joy. He has specific memories, girls confessing their feelings to Hanzo all throughout school. Girls that came from wealthy families and from business tycoons, they would have brought fortune and favour to the company and their family, if Hanzo was saving himself for someone he could run the company with there would be no reason to deny those girls, but he did. Every single time he would offer a smile, bow and politely decline their feelings. He never thought twice about it.  
He had romances made for him by their father, and the elders of the company. Short-lived romances that mostly included the partners flying to some tropical getaway to spend a week together, enough time to smooth over whatever had gone down between the two businesses. Enough time for Hanzo to sweet talk his partner out of their anger, it was always the same. He played as the puppet even in romance, and because of his strings tying him to the greedy fingers of the elders even now as an adult, the head of a billion-dollar corporation, Hanzo couldn't choose his own romance.   
Genji looks at Angela, his chest swells with warmth at her peacefulness. He thinks he's probably in love with Angela. He's sure that his gratitude for her as his nurse goes deeper than just appreciation. He's sure that the way he feels when he looks at her, how his heart pounds when she smiles so brightly, and how he wants to hold her hand and trace every part of her skin with his lips, he's sure that it goes deeper than appreciation. He loves Angela, but he was always given the freedom to love as he pleased. Knowing he wasn't the candidate for leader of the family, he wasn't groomed his entire life to lead the corporation and therefore he was free to love whoever he pleased. Most of the people Hanzo had politely declined, Genji found in his bed at some point in his life. It was easier being second best, more fulfilling.   
He looks at his wrist, tenderly wrapped in a bandage to prevent him from looking at his carnage. It was more fulfilling being second best, even when he's locked in a facility that has total control over him until he's deemed mentally stable enough to see daylight. He probably has nerve damage, the cut was deep enough to cause permanent damage to the tissue, he notices it sometimes. He can't grip as tightly as he used to be able to, sometimes he can't feel the weight of the teacup in his hand, he doesn't say anything. He bites back tears and reminds himself he did this, that Hanzo's mean words and cold glares didn't cause the damage, they only caused the events leading up to the damage. Everything after that was his fault.   
The rain doesn't let up, it's still pounding heavily against his window, taunting him that he can't stand in the rain and feel the cold water soak to his bones. He sighs deeply, gets off his bed and makes his way towards Angela. She's still passed out, completely unaware of everything in the room and the rain pouring outside. His too-soft blanket looks even softer when he wraps it around Angela's shoulders. He tucks her in tenderly, minding not to disturb her from the sleep she probably needs desperately. When he turns off the lights and finds his way back to his bed, the only thing he hears is the soft breathing from the corner of the room and the rain outside. He holds his wrist in front of his face, admires the bandage in the dark, another sigh and he's dozing off.  
He decides that when goes home, he's going to take Angela on a date. Somewhere nice, with candles and expensive wine, and he's going to use his own money. Which would require a job, but he's sure he could find somewhere nice, with good hours and weekends off. It makes him smile, with his bandaged wrist resting over his eyes, for the first time in months he's thinking of the future.


	5. Pink

Jesse drapes the towel over Hanzo’s soaked shoulders after drying his hair. The man's expression is stoic, but his cheeks are flushed. Jesse apologizes softly as he leaves the towel over Hanzo’s shoulders, “with the younger kids running around here I don’t usually think twice about doing things like that,” 

Hanzo smiles softly, it nearly melts Jesse’s heart. “No worries, it’s admirable that you’re so quick to care for people,” 

Hanzo finishes drying himself off and Jesse invites him in for tea. His face feels like it’s going to melt off of his face, everything Hanzo does is calculated and elegant. Jesse swears the man is an angel, sent down to steal his heart. He leads Hanzo behind the tea counter to show him the selection of different blends the shop carries, and Hanzo’s mouth nearly drops. 

“Impressive ain’t it?” Jesse asks as he takes a few of the obscure blends down from the shelf, unscrewing their top and placing them on the counter for Hanzo to smell, “my stepmother travels the world, every few months she’ll send us a crate of new teas she’s collected on her way. The real trouble is selling the old stuff before her next shipment arrives,” 

He watches Hanzo’s nose crinkle at a fruit tea, and the man tries his best not to cough at the scent of the fruit and herbs hitting the back of his nose. “It’s impressive,” Hanzo confirms, “do you have anything Japanese?”

Jesse scans the shelf, he ends up grabbing a sencha green tea, and a cherry blossom black tea, “Sencha is the only authentic tea it looks like, we keep matcha in the back for baking though if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

Hanzo shakes his head and happily accepts the jar of sencha from Jesse, he unscrews the top carefully, setting it down gently on the counter. The hint of a smile on his lips when he smells the tea causes Jesse’s heart to flutter again, at this rate he’s going to need to visit a cardiovascular clinic before the end of the week. 

“It smells like the tea my mother made with breakfast,” Hanzo smiles again, “I didn’t think I could ever smell that same scent again.” 

“I’m glad I could give you that memory, is that the tea you’d like me to brew?”

Hanzo shakes his head, “I think I want an earl grey if it isn’t too much trouble.”

When the tea is brewed, the two men are sitting at a table in the front corner of the shop, a large window gives them the view of the rain pounding on the street, the lights of the city outlining each and every drop. They sit in silence, both admiring the weather outside the window. After a few moments of silence, Hanzo speaks softly “thank you,” he says with a smile, “I’m sure you want to go home but you took me in with no protest.” 

Jesse takes a sip from his tea, deciding there isn’t enough sugar and crinkling his nose. “It’s natural to let people seek shelter from the rain, but I would think someone like you would drive home.”

“I thought it would be a good night to walk, I needed to think but the weather decided against it.” 

Jesse nods, ripping open two sugar packets and pouring them into his tea, “Understandable. Anything shareable?” 

Hanzo looks taken aback for a moment before shaking his head, “Nothing you would be able to understand, family business.”

“My family has business too,” Jesse smiles, “but I understand what you mean. If I told someone about my the things my family does they would think we were dysfunctional or feel bad for us.”

“I fear the same would happen with mine,” Hanzo says, “my brother is enough to scare off anyone that isn’t family.”

Jesse laughs, “so is my stepdad! You ever see a tall Mexican with a big gun? That’s my stepdad but ten times as scary,”

Hanzo chuckles, covering his mouth casually with his hand as he does so. Jesse’s chest is tight, “yes my brother is just annoying, not my first choice of person to be around. But he likes the sweets from here, they’re the highlight of his Thursday.” 

“Do you only see each other on Thursdays?” Jesse inquires,

Hanzo nods “he’s being kept at the facility up the street. Visiting hours are on Thursday, your sweets are his only connection with the outside world at the moment.” 

Jesse knows the facility up the street treats the mentally ill and drug addicted. He doesn’t dare push to find out which category Hanzo’s brother falls under. Instead, he nods and takes another sip from his tea, he’s made it too sweet now. He blames it on nerves. More silence falls between the men, and Hanzo is once again looking out the window, the towel is still draped over his shoulders and his hair is just damp now, no longer clinging to his face. Jesse finishes off his tea, and gathers his small pile of paper sugar packets in his cup, as he gets up to throw the cup in the garbage there’s a crack from across the street. A flash of light fills the room for a split second and suddenly the men are left in pitch black. “Well shit,” Jesse says as he feels his way to the garbage can. 

Hanzo has his phone on the table, the home screen illuminating a tiny space with a blue glow, Jesse finds his way back to the table and sits, digging his phone out of his pocket and turning it on to add to the light. “With a storm like that should’ve figured a transformer would blow,”

Hanzo nods, “I’m sorry about this,” he says again, “I’ll text my driver and he can take us both home if you’d like.”

Jesse chuckles nervously, realizing Hanzo didn’t drive because he has his own private driver. He wonders what the man does for work to warrant him such luxury, “no worries darlin’ I just live upstairs. Don’t think your driver could comfortably take me there.”

It’s hard to make out in the dark, but Jesse can see the faint hint of red on Hanzo’s cheeks. “My apologies,” he says softly, “I don’t want to take up any more of your time tonight,” 

Jesse doesn’t want Hanzo to leave. This was the first time he’s gotten to talk to the man, actually talk. Without the annoyance of boxing sweets or swiping cards, the only time the man has looked him in the eyes and laughed at his jokes. He wants Hanzo to stay a while longer, so they can talk more. He realizes now that his love, at first sight, goes deeper than the attractiveness of the man. He genuinely enjoys talking with Hanzo. “Nonsense,” he finally says “stay awhile. I hardly get company after hours, are you hungry?” 

Hanzo shakes his head, “not particularly, I'll stay for a while more if it’s really okay with you.” He says softly, “I don’t want to bother you.”

“Sugar you are nowhere near bothersome,” Jesse smiles, “my eyes don’t get tired looking at you either.”

Hanzo sputters on his tea and stares at Jesse, who only offers a sheepish grin. They resume a comfortable silence, Hanzo’s eye contact dancing between Jesse and the street outside, Jesse watches Hanzo’s phone light up with a series of text messages, in which Hanzo picks up and casually glances through them, scrolling slowly with his finger. The gesture is so nonchalant, it’s almost sexy and Jesse finds himself trying to avert his attention elsewhere. 

“Not going home seems to have caused some of my associates to worry,” Hanzo says smirking. 

“Do you need to go?” Jesse asks, concerned.

“No, at the end of the week I sign their checks, they’ll do without me for a night.”

Hanzo remembers the golden box he’s been carrying around like the treasure of a dragon, and sets it on the table. With the rain damage it’s not as appealing as it was when Jesse first handed it to him, he momentarily fears that the contents won’t be visually pleasing either. “Are you hungry?” Hanzo asks, ignoring his phone as it buzzes on the table. “My brother sent me home with the last sweet today,” 

Jesse looks at the box he had given Hanzo this morning and blushes deeply. The man may not have caught on to Jesse’s present, but maybe he did and this was his chance to throw it back in Jesse’s face. A cruel form of rejection from the man with the icy features and stoic expression. Jesse swallows heavily as Hanzo opens the box, and sure enough, his heart sinks to his stomach when he sees his lemon bar sitting alone in the box. 

Hanzo smiles fondly at the bar, “it was very beautiful, I think I would’ve felt guilty if I partook on it alone.” 

Jesse blushes deeply but agrees to share the dessert with Hanzo. He excuses himself to find some plates for the both of them to use and hurries behind the counter with his cell phone in hand to find something appropriate. When he feels two small china plates, he grabs them quickly and hurries back to the table where Hanzo is again swiping lazily through his phone. 

“They’re nothing special, but it won’t be as messy.”

They split the bar even down the middle, Hanzo ends up with the piped rose and Jesse gets the plain end. He doesn’t bite into the bar immediately, he waits for Hanzo to do so first. He wants to gauge the man's reaction, he’s fully aware that his desserts taste amazing. But the reassurance from the beautiful man sitting across him would boost his confidence all the much more. He watches as Hanzo bites into the bar, once again something so elegant it’s almost a turn on. Hanzo takes his time with his first bite and then uses his finger to get the lemon filling off his bottom lip. 

“This is delicious Jesse,” he smiles and continues eating the rest of his half “not too sweet,”

“You don’t like sweet?” Jesse asks as he partakes in his half of the bar, not quite as enjoyable after the hundredth one. 

Hanzo shakes his head, “sweets are my brother's thing, I’m not a big fan.” He swipes his finger through the rose, tasting it cautiously before deciding it’s just as good, “but this is good it doesn’t make my teeth hurt, the sourness of the lemon makes it enjoyable.”

Hanzo seems to hesitate on his thoughts for a moment, visibly thinking of what he wants to say. He picks at the lemon bar more, picking up the white chocolate on his finger and rubbing it against his thumb, even his nervous habits were adorable. When his finger is sticky enough he licks the white chocolate off, and stares out the window, Jesse wants so badly to grab him and force him to speak, to tell Hanzo that he can say anything he needs to around Jesse. He doubted that he would ever judge the man for anything he did, he was gorgeous. After an eternity Hanzo speaks, soft and cautious.

"My brother's nurse mentioned the rose on this bar," he trails off, staring at his plate. "Is it true?"

Jesse doesn't know what to say, he thinks, opens his mouth and closes it again. Everything was true, from the moment Hanzo had walked into his bakery he had been head over heels for the man. Something about him drove Jesse wild, a complete stranger that wouldn't even give him the time of day, with the fancy suits and the black credit card, he was absolutely stunning. Jesse has no idea where he expected his confession to go, he assumed Hanzo would ignore him, maybe he would have stopped coming into the bakery. But having Hanzo sitting across from him, his expression soft, avoiding eye contact with Jesse, he would have never expected this. Life was full of mysteries and Jesse wasn't sure if he wanted to tell Hanzo that he had been his biggest mystery, and the love he felt for him was the most genuine kind of love he has ever felt.

Instead, he nods, and smiles at Hanzo "You bet it was true darlin' been thinking about you from the moment you stepped foot in my store."

Hanzo's face is bright red, he stares at Jesse with his mouth slightly open. Jesse wonders if he has overstepped a boundary he wasn't aware of, and he braces himself for Hanzo to get up and leave. Instead, Hanzo looks away, shy and adorable. His heart seizes again, thinking of how a man with such a powerful aura can be so adorable. Hanzo speaks again, his voice back and the softness is gone, "it was very delicious Jesse, I mean that."

Jesse blushes again, hearing his name on the man's lips gives him butterflies. He looks away from Hanzo and back to the rain pounding on the dark street. There’s another comfortable silence between the men, which Jesse is finding he quite enjoys. Sitting with Hanzo in the dark and silence is comforting, there are no thoughts of work or even his unanswered love confession on the man he didn’t even know. He finds himself smiling at the thought of it, to think Hanzo would know what the rose meant, or even know how to respond to a complete stranger was borderline hilarious. Jesse decides that spending time with the handsome acquaintance is better than whatever lust filled fantasy he had in his head. When Hanzo’s phone rings loudly, Jesse flinches at the sudden snap back to reality, he watches Hanzo stare at his phone. Annoyance highlighted by the blue glow of the device, on the screen is a picture of two men, both dressed in traditional eastern garb and smiling happily. Jesse quickly realizes that it’s his brother in the picture, and assumes the other man is Hanzo. 

Hanzo answers the phone in Japanese and shoots back and forth with whoever is on the line. It goes on for a few minutes, Hanzo speaks fast, firm and annoyed but eventually relents. With an audible sigh, he hangs up the phone and looks at Jesse. “My driver is coming to take me back to my apartment,” he says quietly. “I have an important meeting in the morning, which will require my full attention.”

Jesse nods, he understands. But still doesn’t know who Hanzo is, or what he does that warrants drivers and meetings. He figures in a big city like this it’s normal for businessmen to have such luxuries. He doesn’t push it, “it’s alright sugar, I had a good time with you.” 

“I had a good time with you as well, Jesse.” 

Jesse escorts Hanzo to the door, where the two lean in the doorway and stare into the dark of the night. It only takes ten minutes for Hanzo’s driver to arrive, Jesse assumes Hanzo lives close by. Before the man leaves, Jesse wishes him a good night once again and thanks him for spending the majority of the storm with him. Hanzo is smiling, he can see that from the headlights of the car outside the shop, but the smile is so beautiful it nearly causes Jesse’s heart to stop, and when Hanzo takes a step towards Jesse, he nearly hemorrhages on the spot. 

A hand is placed on his chest, cautiously as Hanzo leans in close, using his free hand to grab Jesse by the chin and pull him down to his level. Hanzo gives him a soft and chaste kiss, his lips taste like lemon and earl grey, they’re soft and Jesse wants to push for more, to lock the door to the shop and tell his driver to fuck off. When he releases Jesse from their kiss, he's smiling something sinister, as quiet as a mouse he says "Lavender is a beautiful color," With that, he pulls away from Jesse and heads out the door. 

“Have a good night, Jesse.” He calls behind him, waving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters won't be as back-to-back as these first 5 were, I'm finally caught up to my notebook and can start posting chapters as I finish them.


	6. Yellow

Jesse doesn't see Hanzo the following week. He bides his time patiently, going through his daily routines while trying his damn well hardest not to think about Hanzo. Or the kiss; the kiss which plagues him constantly. He finds his mind going back to it at the most inconvenient of times. While he's rolling dough or piping cakes. He thinks of Hanzo's lips, how much better earl grey tastes when he's kissing it from Hanzo's lips, and how he's eaten a thousand lemon bars but Hanzo carried the taste of the confection with so much elegance. He thinks of how badly he wanted to grab the man by the collar and pull him in for more, push him against the glass door and ravage him 

But he didn't, and the decision haunts him as well. The fact Hanzo caught him off guard, the fact he didn't know how to respond to the way the man kissed him so nonchalantly, like it as absolutely nothing. He supposes for a man like Hanzo, with an exterior as cool as ice it probably was nothing. A calculated business move and nothing more. But Jesse can't figure out where it would forward his business, there was no gain. Thursday rolls around slowly and Jesse doesn't want to admit that he's waiting for Hanzo to show up.  
"You got it bad, man." The kid says from his coffee counter, watching Jesse count down the minutes to one o'clock.   
"I ain't got nothing "bad"" Jesse air quotes the word bad, Lucio laughs from the counter, shaking his head and returning to grinding his beans.   
When Hanzo doesn't show up, Jesse has trouble masking his disappoint. When a pretty blonde girl shows up in his place, he can hardly contain himself. Her hair was tied neatly back in a ponytail and she wore a light green button up blouse that complimented her milky skin and ocean blue eyes. Jesse wonders if he should make conversation or if it'd be for nothing. He finds his words don't come to him as easily as they did for Hanzo; so he boxes up Hanzo's order for the lady, adds a lavender and earl grey too on to the bill and hands her the machine. He recognizes Hanzo's credit card and momentarily wonders if the woman is a larger part of Hanzo's life.  
He doesn't push it, and instead wishes the woman a good remainder of her day. His remark causes her to turn around and smile at him, "Thank you, Jesse," she says sweetly. "I'll let Hanzo know you say hello,"  
She goes to leave but Jesse can't help but to stop her, "Wait!" he says, "how is Hanzo?"  
The woman shakes the tea, "sick as a dog," she says with annoyance on her face. "Ignored his symptoms too long and now he can't get out of bed." She huffs, "I spend more time taking care of those brothers than I spend on myself,"   
With that, she leaves the shop, tea, and sweets in hand. Jesse thinks that the woman is one of the most terrifying people he has ever met. Again he questions what Hanzo does for work.

╰₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪ 

The rain continuously fell for the rest of the week. Sometimes Hanzo thought the city would flood and wash away, but it never happened, so he watched the rain. It fell on his way to work, in the office, board meetings and on the way home. He sits in his home office, large window overlooking the city and all of its lights, and he watches the rain cast a terrible looking gray filter over the city.  
He thinks of the kiss often. If asked what possessed him to kiss a man he didn't know, he wouldn't be able to answer. So he doesn't think about the answer and instead he tries his hardest to ignore the way Jesse's lips tasted and how kissing the stranger on his own free will, without the influence from his family or business. Something he did on his own with no potential gain, felt more right and natural than anything he had ever done before.  
He looks forward to Thursday, to seeing Genji and Jesse. He ignores the scratch in his throat on Friday, drinks more water than usual hoping he just spoke more than usual while in the company of Jesse. On Saturday his legs start burning and at one point it feels like he's trying to walk in waist deep water. Again it's something he fixes with an extra hot shower and a bigger cup of tea. The symptoms progress throughout the week, and Hanzo slowly but purposely ignores them all.  
Late Wednesday night he can hardly move and finds making himself dinner is too much of a chore. His lungs burn, walking back to his bed leaves him gasping for air and clutching at his chest. His throat hurts, his muscles ache and his vision is cloudy. He climbs into bed and lays there, listening to the rain pounding against his window, and wishes nothing more to sleep and wake up completely healed in the morning. It doesn't work, in fact, he remains awake and aware until four in the morning. That's when he decides to text Angela, the nurse had put her number in his phone when she first took in Genji, Hanzo hadn't texted or called since.  
In a quick text, he lets Angela know of his health and how he regrets to inform Genji that he won't be able to make the visit in the afternoon. In an attempt to make the situation a little better, he offers Angela to come and pick up his card so Genji could still get sweets. He places his phone on his chest and drifts in and out of consciousness, the sound of the rain keeping him somewhat alert. At one point he sees the flow from his phone, but it doesn't wake him up enough to look at it.  
The next time he opens his eyes, Angela is sitting beside him. Book in hand, casually reading through Hanzo's western romance novel. "Very particular tastes, Hanzo." She remarks, her eyes not leaving the page.  
Hanzo laughs, his throat is sore and scratchy and the action causes some minute pain that is incredibly inconvenient. "It belonged to my mother, not quite my taste. Just light night reading,"  
Angela smirks and points to the tea on his bedside table. "You seem to have a preference for the rough around the edges men. Tall, dark, bakers maybe?"  
His face burns and Janzo wonders if he can melt into the blankets covering him. It suddenly dawns on him that Angels is in his apartment, and he didn't let her in. "You know," he says, reaching for his tea. "Breaking and entering is a serious offense, often time punishable by law."  
She snorts and drops his key and card on the table. "What crime is it to give an acquaintance your keys and credit card while in a fever dream?"  
She explains everything, apparently, Hanzo had woken up long enough to give Angela his things. He had fully explained Genji's order, not forgetting to mention that Jesse had most likely already boxed it up for him, and he mentioned that Jesse would probably be disappointed Hanzo wasn't going to be in this week. He also gave Angela to pick up whatever extra sweets she deemed appropriate. The only extras Angela had picked up were two teas, one for him and one for her.  
Before coming to Hanzo's apartment she had gone back and spent the visiting hours with Genji, he was grateful for the sweets once again and made fun of Hanzo for overworking himself. Hanzo beamed at the thought of his younger brother making fun of him once again, only a few weeks ago Hanzo would have thought Genji would never have done so again. But he also finds himself glad that his kiss with Jesse, the entire interaction between the men was a secret. He touches his fingers to his lips, somehow hoping he could still taste the baker a week later. He couldn't.  
Hanzo and Angela finish their tea, they chat over things that were purely professional. Genji went to the group again today, according to the blonde nurse he was making good progress. However he was still not sharing any thoughts or feelings, but he listened and he respected. Angela admits that's all she could ask of Genji at the moment and Hanzo agrees, he didn't want to push his brother any further than he already had. She expresses her concern over Genji's infatuation with the new nurse, mentions how she wishes he would do something for himself instead of trying to impress others.  
The jealousy on her face is easy to read, and Hanzo so badly wants to tell her not to worry. Genji is so in love with Angela it's almost humorous. But out of respect for his younger brother Hanzo doesn't mention anything, instead he nods, validates her concerns and tells her next week he will have a talk with Genji. Because he cares about him as well, Hanzo doesn't mention that Genji is only trying to speed up his healing so he can court Angela properly. He had always been crazy for men and women, sometimes both at the same time, and Hanzo could always tell when his little brother was dying to take someone out and treat them well. The way Genji looks at Angela says it all. He keeps it to himself.  
As far as he knows Angela doesn't suspect anything. When the alarm on her phone goes off, she apologizes and begins gathering her things. With her blouse buttoned up to her neck and her hair straight in its ponytail, Angela is once again the picture of the perfect nurse. If Hanzo didn't know better he would have assumed someone like her would have been incapable of feeling things like uncertainty and jealousy. She bids him farewell and just to be polite Hanzo follows her to the front door, despite the ache in his bones as he walks with her. He also wanted to make sure he didn't fall asleep before he could lock it. The last thing he needed was one of the elders to barge into his home and begin lecturing his lack of effort during his illness.  
Hanzo is in the middle of closing the door for Angela, but the woman grabs the frame suddenly, "Hanzo, wait.." She says rather dramatically. Hanzo stares at her puzzled, doing a once over of the woman trying to figure out what she had forgotten in his apartment, "I forgot to tell you," she says.  
"Jesse says hello, he missed you this week." With that Angela smiles and shuts the door herself, leaving Hanzo blushing and weak-kneed in his entryway. He makes it his top priority to recover as quickly as possible over the next week. In terms of workload he does his best not to take too much on at a time, he drinks plenty of water and tea, accepts all rides from his driver and goes to sleep every night before midnight.  
He can't wait to see Jesse again. 


	7. Coral Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Discussion around suicide!

It was his first time talking in group, and quite honestly Genji didn't expect it to be as liberating as it was. He sat in the middle of the circle, and he told his story.   
As kids he and Hanzo were best friends, they did everything together. They had adventures in the backyard of the family estate, they camped out in forts made of blankets and chairs, they played video games and watched movies. Genji recalls a time where he wouldn't go anywhere without holding his big brother's hand, he loved Hanzo so much.   
The first time their relationship was rattled was when their mother was diagnosed with cancer in her stomach and didn't survive her very short battle. Hanzo was mortified, he holed himself up in his bedroom and refused to speak to anyone. Genji would sit with his back against his brother's door and tell him stories through the wood, stories about dragons, somewhere in the far eastern lands. Dragon brothers that could overcome anything if they worked together because the power of their love was the only thing they needed to conquer all obstacles. Hanzo never replied to the stories for weeks, he listened to Genji silently through the door.  
Until one day Genji told his most popular dragon story, about the two brothers flying through the caves of mountains in search of treasure, but he changed his story a tiny bit, he told Hanzo the dragon found mountains of gold coins and fancy glass, in which Hanzo replied through the door, the first time Genji had heard him speak in weeks. "I thought the dragon found lots of tea and rice cakes," With his brother's reply Hanzo had opened the door and Genji thought he was going to strangle his brother with his hug that day.   
Ten years later when Hanzo turned eighteen he was suddenly an asset to the company, old enough to legally represent the company on behalf of their father. That was the second stake in their relationship, Hanzo left regularly on business trips. Sometimes he would come home with a light blush from sake on his cheeks and the prints of red lipstick on his collar. Genji always wondered what the business meetings entailed but no one ever told him, so instead he would watch Hanzo stagger to his bedroom and collapse on his bed. In the morning he could hear Hanzo scrubbing his skin in the sink for what seemed like hours.  
The third stake was when Genji discovered his brother was gay. It wasn't a big deal to him, he didn't have a preference for gender, loved everybody. But Hanzo was his older brother and for the majority of their lives, they told each other everything. Hanzo was twenty one when Genji walked in on his older brother pinned against the wall by someone in an expensive suit and tie. All of the business trips to tropical getaways and hot springs made sense, every time their father forced Hanzo to go somewhere for the sake of the company. The way Hanzo scrubbed his skin like being with a woman was a downright sin, seeing his brother with an entirely different kind of blush covering his face, his eyes glossy and legs hands running through some man's hair, Genji didn't know what to say. He was hurt that his brother didn't confide in him, but he was ashamed he didn't see it before them.   
The look of devastation on Hanzo's face when he saw Genji stuck with him, and when Genji questioned him later on Hanzo simply looked him in the eyes and said,  
"I don't think my business is any of your concern."  
When their father passed away the brother's moved to America, selling the family estate and cushioning their bank accounts nicely. Hanzo took full responsibility of the company, it was the final stake and when the brother's stopped speaking beyond Hanzo scolding Genji for bringing home strangers to their apartment and keeping him awake too late. He found solace in bottles of alcohol, he mourned the loss of Hanzo, his last remaining family in thin white lines off the back of toilets in the restrooms of clubs. The loss of familiar intimacy by locking lips and tongues with people he had only known for an hour. Genji had become the complete opposite of his stoic, icy brother.   
He thinks that was around the time the voices in his head started talking louder than the people around him. Somewhere between their move to America and the party lifestyle, he adopted something in his brain was released, and tortured him. It took a particularly nasty fight with Hanzo to snap him completely, looking back on it Genji doesn't think anyone could have prevented it. Maybe he could have five years prior, maybe Hanzo could have three years prior. But at the moment nothing could have stopped it.  
Hanzo was lecturing him for not telling him that his credit card had gotten declined, Genji had gone into debt, spending the money their father left him and not telling anyone. Hanzo was upset, he could have helped Genji, but the younger Shimada didn't want to admit that a good majority of his money had been dumped into an addiction he had given himself.   
"Why must you keep everything from me Genji?" Hanzo had asked from across the dining room table, "When did our communication stop?"  
Genji knew Hanzo was upset, he knew his older brother was trying to be an older brother. He knew that. But he was going through withdrawals, it had been a week since he had gotten drunk, two since his last line. He was irritable, angry at the world.   
"Maybe it died when you lied to me for your entire life Hanzo," he snapped, his voice dripping with venom. "Or when you fucking cut me out of your life completely."  
Hanzo looked taken aback, not expecting Genji to snap on him, his expression softened. "I didn't know what to tell you Genji, I didn't know what to tell myself," he admits and Genji should have accepted it, but he was mad at himself. They had no secrets, he should have known, he should have guessed.  
"Things with the company have been hard, the takeover is hard. I'm sorry I haven't had time for you Genji if I had known you were struggling.."   
His brother's softness infuriated him, Hanzo had no excuse. He had disappeared and stopped being a big brother, the Hanzo he idolized and loved with his entire heart was dead, he was never there and Genji couldn't accept his apology. Ever.   
"Of course you didn't know I was struggling Hanzo, you never fucking look passed your stupid company to see me anymore." He spits, his entire body hot with the anger he knew wasn't Hanzo's fault, he knew it. "You're never fucking around anymore, you have no idea about anything since dad died!"  
"Genji I.." He's cut off by his phone ringing, he looks Genji in the eyes, his expression soft and genuinely sorry, but he couldn't accept it. Hanzo takes the call and Genji's blood boils. He listens to his brother shoot back and forth with whoever is on the phone, quick and powerful, like a true leader. He hangs up and gathers his things, "I'm sorry Genji but I need to go, the elders need me."  
"Of course they do," he snarls. "You couldn't tell them once that you can't be there, like usual the company means more than us Hanzo. You know what?" He knows in his heart, somewhere, now that he's looking back on it months later. He knew. "You're the worst brother in the fucking world Hanzo, you're dead to me."  
It was Hanzo's turn to snap, his presence became bigger, more powerful. Like a dragon. "You are so fucking childish Genji, grow the fuck up!" He shouted at Genji, killing Genji's anger immediately, "It's always about you, isn't it? Do you think this is fucking easy for me? Do you think taking over a billion dollar company that has been successful for decades is easy? Why would you?" Hanzo grabs his suit jacket and throws it over his shoulder, "Everything is always about the little brother, poor spoiled Genji. You don't know anything about life, Genji."  
Genji follows him to the door, ready to punch Hanzo in his stupid fucking face. As his brother stands in the doorway, he looks Genji in the face, his eyes are ice and his expression is dangerous. "You've done nothing but prove to be a failure to the Shimada family, Genji." He says with the calm anger that sends shivers throughout Genji's body. And then Hanzo is slamming the door, and he's gone.  
It takes Genji a few minutes to recover and continue his story, he's shaking and his skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Everyone in the group is listening to intensely, for the first time in years Genji feels listened to.   
It was Hanzo that found him that afternoon, Genji never asked why Hanzo had come home early. All he remembers is holding on to Hanzo's white shirt, ruining it with his blood and he silently wept. He had prayed to not die, and Hanzo was there to save him. He rode with Genji in the ambulance, he had left his phone on the counter at home, his bloodstained shirt looked out of place on his brother, he was too strong and good looking, Hanzo never mentioned his shirt. He stayed with him in the hospital for the first two nights, he sat by Genji's bed until his eyes were black from lack of sleep and his skin was dry from lack of proper nutrients and showering.  
It took three days before Genji was sent to the facility. He knew Hanzo had paid for the most expensive treatment he could find, he never mentioned it. Never mentioned how much money he had spent to guarantee Genji's recovery. So when he spoke at group, he spoke for Hanzo, and when he took off his bandages that afternoon he did it for Hanzo.   
It was Zen's idea to make tea, but Genji felt better than usual today, more energized and happy. He volunteers to make the tea and Zen doesn't fight him. He's carrying the teapot and two cups on a tray back to his bed when he feels his hand gives out. He had been warned out nerve damage, this wasn't the first time it had happened, but it was the first time it had happened in front of Zen, as the teapot and cups smashed against the floor, splashing hot liquid on Genji's bare feet and shattering glass around the room, Genji is horrified.  
Zen doesn't say anything, just silently walks over to Genji and begins cleaning up the mess. Genji wants to cry, wants to scream and break the remainder of the china Zen has left in the room, but he doesn't. Instead, he stands still in pure horror. He knows Zen has probably cleaned up worse messes than this, he knows Zen has probably dealt with bigger situations but for Genji who was making so much progress and was trying so damn hard to be the best he could be, this was so major to him. His hands are shaking, and his eyes are burning, something in his brain is screaming at him that he can't do anything right.   
Zen hands him a towel and smiles gently, reassuringly; "If we both wipe up the spilled tea, the mess will be gone before we know it."  
Genji swallows his tears, they sit as a hard lump in his throat and he nods. Zen hasn't said anything judgmental, he hasn't blamed Genji, he hasn't even looked at him like he's not capable of doing anything, so Genji helps him clean in silence, helps him carry broken china to the garbage can by the door. Zen thanks him for his help in cleaning the mess, and immediately walks over to the sink and pulls out another teapot, he has left so many different cups and pots in Genji's room, not once did he think the glass to be a hazard. He hadn't thought anything to be a hazard to Genji, he knew he was trying.  
He sits on his bed, staring out the window as Zen brews tea, he watches birds fly around his window, diving at each other and flying free. He's envious, and a little sad, sad to have thought that the progress he made was significant. It had taken weeks to speak in group, weeks beforehand to even go to group, Genji is reminded bitterly that his recovery wasn't something he could rush through, instead, he had to tread carefully not to step on the broken glass of his own life.   
Zen sits beside him and offers him a cup of tea, it's fragrant, peppermint and Genji accepts silently. He sips at his tea, horribly aware of his grip on his cup, focusing all of his energy into not dropping the drink again. When the birds fly away and the clock is quarter to one, Genji finally speaks.  
"Sometimes I feel like I'm never getting out of here Zen," he admits, draining his cup and holding it towards his handsome nurse to refill, "I feel like a caged bird in here."  
Zen happily pours his tea and smiles softly, everything he did was soft. "You will get out of here Genji, but every person recovers at a different rate. It's okay to be slow, no one here will judge you on how long it takes to get better."  
"I just feel like I'm doomed to do everything wrong, I can't even carry a teapot from a sink." His voice cracks and Genji can feel his eyes begin to sting again, "All I want is to go home and be with Hanzo again, to take Angela on a date. I just want anything but this place." He emphasizes, and Zen nods.   
"You will go home Genji, do not rush yourself."  
Genji tightens his fist around his cup and stares at the window, "I'm not rushing myself."  
"But you are," Zen argues.   
He feels defeated, he knows he can't argue with Zen as much as he wants to. Because he has tried to rush himself, that's what he has been doing for the last month, rushing himself so he could return to his previous frivolous lifestyle of partying, sex and drugs. He feels weak like he isn't himself, he so badly wants to throw his cup at the wall and watch ir shatter into a hundred pieces.  
"What if it takes years?" He asks, eyes suddenly fixated on Zens.  
The man only smiles wider, and locks his gaze with Genji's, "Then those will be years that Doctor Ziegler and I will help you heal,"  
His words are so genuine, so kind that they almost feel like a blow in the chest. Genji doesn't say anything after that, instead, he finishes his tea in silence and carries the cups and pot to the sink, placing them in the bottom and filling them with water.  
It's five to one when one of the day nurses knocks politely on the door, "Mr. Shimada, your brother is here to see you, may he come in?"  
Genji thinks about it, he wanted to see Hanzo today and he wanted to tell his older brother about group and his sharing of his story. But the broken china is fresh in his mind, the kickback on his progress, the bruise to his pride, it's all fresh and open in his mind, so Genji shakes his head. "Not today, tell him I'm sorry and will see him next week," The nurse nods and closes the door gently, Genji politely asks Zen to leave as well, the handsome nurse doesn't argue but instead claps Genji gently on the shoulder and wishes him a good afternoon.   
Genji crawls into his bed and wraps himself in his blanket. He watches the clouds move slowly and lazily through the blue sky, the first blue sky in weeks. He's comfortable and content, dwelling on Zen's words, accepting that he had tried to recover too fast, so instead of wishing to be a bird, flying free through the sky. Genji imagines himself as a cloud, drifting quietly through the sky without a care for anything in the world, it only takes a few minutes for him to drift off, and he has one of the most calming afternoon naps to date.


	8. Red

The door to Jesse's bakery chimes happily and as Hanzo enters he's immediately greeted with the smell of freshly baked bread. It only takes a few seconds for Jesse to emerge from the back, a black apron covered in flour stretching tight across his chest, his hands streaked with flour and his hair tied back in a short ponytail. Hanzo blushes at how handsome the man looks.   
"Bit early, ain't it sugar?" Jesse asks, mirth shining in his eyes and a wide smile on his face.  
Hanzo nods, "I just wanted to grab something for breakfast, I haven't eaten anything good in a week."   
Jesse is more than enthusiastic to show Hanzo the case of goods that he has sitting next to the front counter. The bakery is quiet, save for a few people in for coffee, they sit at the few tables by the windows chatting quietly between themselves. There's a younger boy that happily serves coffee and grabs desserts for people, he gives Jesse a nod and a blinding smile and Jesse takes his time with Hanzo. Hanzo doesn't feel necessarily guilty, he hasn't seen Jesse in a week and he wants to soak up all of the attention Jesse can offer him.  
The food looks great, but the sound of Jesse's voice brings a pleasure to Hanzo that sits in his belly, warm and content. The way Jesse talks about his craft like it's the most important thing in his life, his pride over his confections and business spills over in his voice and it fills Hanzo with such a warm, fuzzy feeling. Hanzo can tell Jesse knows what true love is, and for him, that true love is his baking.  
Hanzo settles on an orange cranberry muffin and a black coffee, Jesse takes it upon himself to warm the muffin up for Hanzo, promising the flavors are better warm. Hanzo smiles and lets Jesse do whatever he wants. But when Jesse hands him the muffin warm, slightly steaming Hanzo realizes the smell is absolutely divine. The two men leave the bakery together, and a quick glance at Hanzo's watch gives him the confirmation that yes, he does have the time to sit and chat with Jesse. They sit on the curb of the sidewalk, ignoring how unsanitary it was. Hanzo offers Jesse half of his muffin and the bakery politely declines, Jesse offers Hanzo a cigarette and Hanzo politely declines.  
"I missed you last week, you know," Jesse says smoothly, blowing smoke into a slow cloud.   
Hanzo smiles, apologizes. "My illness came quickly, but after lectures from Angela - Genji's nurse, I'm taking extra measures to ensure I do not fall sick again.|   
"Come on now," Jesse teases, "Everyone gets sick, no amount of essential oils and water can stop that,"  
"I suppose you're right, but avoiding twenty hour work days might help to prolong the time between sickness."   
Jesse nods, taking another drag. "I hear you there, sweetheart."  
They sit in relative silence, Hanzo takes occasional sips from his coffee, admiring the taste every time. "The coffee boys named Lucio, sixteen and has some serious talent with coffee, and music. Comes in before and after school, the kid's great help."   
Hanzo feels brief jealousy, wishing his own younger brother would show responsibility when it came to business. Genji was not a bad worker, and he had a lot of talent with numbers and people. But he just refused to take interest or pride in the families business. Hanzo pushes those thoughts to the back of his brain, he already felt a sick sense of guilt that plagued his sleep and every day, he didn't want to go back into the mindset that when Genji is released he will take interest in the family.  
"Say Hanzo..." Jesse starts, and it snaps Hanzo back into reality. "Are you and Angela... More?" He seems nervous, scratches at his neck and smiles shyly, "You don't have to answer if you don't want," he quickly adds.  
Hanzo laughs, it's short and unexpected but he can't hide it. He takes another drink from his coffee in an attempt to prevent himself from laughing more. "No," he says stiffly, "She's not my type."  
The look of relief on Jesse's face is very evident but Hanzo doesn't say anything. He enjoys his coffee and muffin with Jesse, really enjoys the man's company, their conversation hops from different topics. Jesse talks about his bakery, about how the kids keep the place running. He sounds like the perfect mixture of a big brother and father, Hanzo finds himself blushing at the thought of Jese being a dad.  
"Another thing I've been meaning to mention," Jesse says, stubbing the last of his cigarette out on the pavement. "That kiss,"   
Hanzo immediately blushes deep, in all honesty, he had no idea why he kissed Jesse that night. No idea what came over him to kiss an almost complete stranger, he could blame it on his desire to rebel against the family just like Genji had. Or he could blame the beginning of a debilitating cold, but when Hanzo took the time to think about it. He wanted to. Somewhere between the "accidental" dessert left in Genji's box, to sitting with Jesse in a blackout with nothing save for the glow of their cell phones on the table. Somewhere between there, Hanzo had decided he just wanted to.  
"I wanted to," he tells him frankly, which elicits a shocked reaction from Jesse. Watching the man sputter on his coffee like Hanzo had just told him the secret of the universe. It made him smile, wide and bright. "Something in me decided I had to kiss you at that very moment."  
Jesse nods and Hanzo can see the blush on his cheeks, Jesse swallows nervously and stares at Hanzo, "Would you do it again?" he asks.   
For a moment Hanzo feels like a preteen again. Awkwardly talking with his crush about affection like a chaste kiss between two people was a sin. Something secret and dirty, for a moment it flashes through Hanzo's mind that a kiss was one of the cleanest things he wanted to do to Jesse. He doesn't say it out loud, anxiety soaring through his veins. The man confessed his love through a beautifully piped rose on a decadent dessert. And Hanzo was somehow afraid a snippet from his mind was going to scare him away.  
Instead of answering, Hanzo sets his coffee on the sidewalk beside him and wraps his arms around Jesse's neck. It catches the baker off guard, but Jesse's eyes are bright, filled with admiration and bliss. Hanzo presses their foreheads together, smiles at Jesse and makes the kiss. It's different than the first, slow and filled with a warm love Hanzo can't quite describe. But Jesse's arms are around his waist and he's pulling Hanzo closer, smiling between small kisses. Neither man pushes further, happy to exchange innocent love between one another.   
When Hanzo pulls away, he unwraps his arms from around Jesse's neck, and his face is on fire. Jesse still holds him around the waist, and the baker presses their foreheads together once again. Smiling so soft and warm, "I guess that answers my question, don't it?"  
Hanzo smiles and nods, "I would kiss you as much as you'd like, Jesse."  
There is no comeback, just another kiss, glowing with affection and the pure love Jesse holds for Hanzo. It makes his heart soar, he's beaming when they pull away from each other again and Hanzo begins collecting his garbage to throw out before he has to leave for work. Jesse sends him off to work with a quick squeeze of his hand and a kiss on his cheek, "Come see me tonight again sugar," he tells Hanzo, not giving him an option of saying no.  
Not that Hanzo would, so he smiles and nods to the taller baker. "I'll be here,"


	9. White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, it's been a busy last few weeks!!   
> I've become a new fur mommy, and work has been giving me so many hours I can't keep up with anything.  
> I'll get better at updating this on a more consistent basis from now on!

Hanzo doesn't know what form of anxiety is stopping him from going to Jesse's shop. In fact, he thinks he must look quite silly standing a couple hundred meters away staring at the light from the baker's shop illuminating the dark, rain-stained streets. It's not like Jesse wouldn't be happy to see him, Hanzo saw the way he looked at him that very morning. Jesse adored him, and he was almost sure he adored Jesse as well.   
But now it was hard, the entire day after their picture-perfect morning was hard. Work was hard, and Hanzo has what feels like one thousand things to do tonight only to save his head tomorrow, everyone was on his case. Like the falling economy was somehow his fault, and not the fault of the same men in expensive suits he surrounded himself with. And Genji. Genji was worrying, and Hanzo had mentally exhausted himself worrying about his younger brother all day long.  
On his way out of the facility Angela had dragged him into her office, the same office Hanzo sat in when he first brought Genji to the facility. It wasn't nearly as intimidating the second time, but Angela sat facing Hanzo from her desk. She typed in silence for what felt like an eternity, and printed off a handful of papers, sticking them in a manila file that had a picture of Genji stuck on the front with a paper clip.  
"He will be okay," Angela assures Hanzo as he takes the file from her, her hand lingers on his for a few seconds too long. "Relapse happens, and recovery is a rocky road for anyone to walk. Genji's progress until this point has been phenomenal,"  
Hanzo stares at the photo on the file, the Genji in the picture wasn't the Genji he had grown up with. His eyes were dark, accentuated by a lack of sleep that left his eyes red and his skin ghostly, he was looking at the camera, but his gaze is at nothing. The picture causes Hanzo's heart to wrench and he debates lighting the file on fire.   
"I think maybe a day out of this place would be good for Genji," Angela says, a forced smile in her voice, like she was trying not to let it slip she was also worried about Genji, "in these files is every report I and Zenyatta have done since Genji came here, please have a read through them and fill out the forms. I can process the paperwork immediately and Genji can be released next Thursday,"  
Hanzo nods, he feels numb and his hands shake. "How long until I can bring Genji home?"  
Angela avoids the question, doesn't even acknowledge it. Instead, she powers off her computer and picks up Hanzo's briefcase for him, ushering him out the door. "I'll see you soon Hanzo, stay safe," she says as she closes the office door behind him.   
He had left his suit jacket in Angela's office, and now that he was standing in the cold night air, being a coward about seeing the man he had been looking forward to seeing all day long, he could feel the cold seeping into his bones and he regrets being like this. It takes so much to swallow his anxiety, to mentally beat it with a stick, but Hanzo manages it, and his throat feels raw like he had been swallowing rocks. But he approaches Jesse's shop, and he tries his hardest to smile as he does so.   
When he pushes the door to the bakery open he's greeted with a familiar warmth he has quickly come to love and the sweet smell of bread and coffee. Jesse is at the counter, wiping it down meticulously, when his attention is snapped to the door Hanzo watches the mans face go through so many emotions. But he's happy, Hanzo can tell by the way his cheeks are dusted with a hint of red, and the smile Hanzo had tried so hard to force becomes natural, his heart screams that this is where he needed to be.  
"I missed you today, honey," Jesse says as he comes around the counter, quickly gathering Hanzo up in the warmest embrace he's ever experienced. "You're freezing!"  
Hanzo snuggles into the embrace, he wasn't necessarily a small or fragile man. In fact, he had never been in better physical shape and it was rare that people didn't cower at his powerful handshake, but Jesse was larger. Muscle came together with the slightest bit of chub, probably from the desserts the baker made and forms such a beautiful feeling Hanzo wants to melt into it, to be the one who's finally taken by someone else's strength. Jesse doesn't complain that Hanzo has no plans in moving out of his embrace, the taller man places his chin on top of Hanzo's head and tries his hardest to warm him up.  
"I'm sorry I'm late," Hanzo says as he pulls away, already regretting it. "It was such a busy day today, I debated not coming at all," he admits.  
"No worries sugar," Jesse smiles and tucks a strand of Hanzo's hair behind his ear, "Here sugar, how about I give you my number and if you don't want to come to see me you can text me? No hard feelings if you're ever too tired to come here,"  
Hanzo is stunned, he wants to kiss Jesse again. If he thinks about it he always wants to kiss Jesse, to show him how he feels without having to say anything. He's reminded of previous partners, dark rooms and secret kisses, the way they brought him momentary pleasure that quickly disappeared once the door closed and they left.   
Jesse never kissed him in the dark, except when Hanzo kissed him, but even then they were illuminated by the lights of the town car waiting for him outside the door. Jesse kissed him in daylight, outside the shop when people could see, he piped confessions of love on the desserts that his younger brother could see. He wasn't afraid, he wasn't someone in a suit that could be "ruined" by being with Hanzo, Jesse was different.   
Hanzo hands Jesse his phone and watches as the man enters his name and number, creating himself a contact. When he hands the phone back to Hanzo, he smiles when he sees Jesse's name has a heart and a cowboy emoji, it makes Hanzo smile wide at the contact. He quickly sends Jesse a text and hears the mans phone on the back counter ding.   
"Want to come up for dinner?" Jesse asks as he returns to closing up.  
"If your food is any good as your baking, yes please."   
Jesse blushes a bit, "Actually my baking is my strong suit. Hope you got nothing against meat and potatoes, 'cause it's all I can make."  
Hanzo smiles and shakes his head, "No I have nothing against that at all. How can I help you close shop?"  
"Just look pretty like you always do honey, I'll be done in a few minutes." He's so nice Hanzo wants to melt, Jesse is absolutely perfect. He has only known the man for a couple of weeks, but he's already outperforming any of the people he had been with before. "But wait honey," Jesse says, a smirk on his lips. "Could I get a kiss?"  
Hanzo doesn't hesitate to throw himself into Jesse's arms, he doubts he ever will.


End file.
